Taking Risks
by MarigoldMusings
Summary: Set after Parents Nightmare, Ed Tucker debates how to pursue his feelings for Olivia Benson.
1. Chapter 1

This takes place between _Parents Nightmare_ and _Surrendering Noah_

Characters and show references belong to Dick Wolf.

Ed Tucker grabbed for his phone, vibrating in his inside breast pocket, and smiled slightly as he read the text message.

 _Filed for the exam…_

He breathed a sigh of relief, for he had technically told a lie when he informed his superiors of the Sergeant's intent to take the Lieutenant exam. It was unusual but not unheard of for an officer to rise in the ranks so quickly, but both Tucker and the folks at One PP acknowledged that Olivia Benson was certainly qualified for a fast track promotion. Tucker was certain he'd made his point to Olivia, that she would inevitably become someone's subordinate if she refused to set her professional sights higher, and he feared that SVU's recent streak of successes would end if anyone other than Benson were in charge. She was obviously on the same page; it had only been a few hours since he'd left her office.

He began keying in a response, _Great news, Sergeant_

He paused for a few seconds, musing over the end punctuation. A lack of punctuation looked indifferent and perfunctory. A period seemed overly professional. An exclamation point indicated, perhaps, _too_ _much_ excitement. Lately, it was difficult for Ed to maintain his steely demeanor whenever he communicated with Benson either in person or over the phone. Over the past several weeks, their paths had crossed often, and a subtle yet intimate and affectionate relationship had spun off from their professional one.

He took the first risk in steering their quick meeting about Amaro and his father into a pseudo-date by offering to buy her a drink. Tucker replayed those moments in his head often—how she was trying to be all business, how he was nervous, how she smiled when she accepted, and how she easily sipped the bourbon even though she was a wine person. They conversed easily on a wide range of topics; her varied intellect impressed him, and her body language betrayed a coy attraction to him. As they hovered over the bar, perched on rickety stools, she leaned in close when he spoke, intently looking in his eyes, and she playfully nudged him a couple of times when they shared a laugh. As it got later and the bar filled with people, the dense crowd wedged them closer together, so much so that it became difficult to move and difficult to hear. Tucker remembered how he had cursed the crowd in his mind; they stayed a little longer, but for two older cops, the chaotic atmosphere quickly grew intolerable. Besides, she had to get home and relieve the babysitter.

Outside, both he and Benson hesitated, not quite sure how to end the evening. If he were a different person, he would grab her, kiss her hard, take her home, and gladly pay the babysitter whatever overtime wages she was owed. But, he was Ed Tucker, and she was Olivia Benson, and he knew this impasse had to be navigated with care. Until the crowd forced them out, the night had been perfect. Even now, it was perfect. He just had to find some way to not derail the whole thing before it started.

"Thank you for the drinks," she said to him sweetly, tightening the belt on her coat and pulling on her gloves. Then, she reached out and grabbed his upper arm, "let's do it again sometime." Instead of immediately releasing, her grip lingered for a few seconds, and she let her hand fall down along the outside of his arm. Accepting this extended goodbye as an invitation, he took her hand, pulled her body toward his, and kissed her softly on the lips. They remained there for several seconds, locked in an embrace, in a closed-mouth yet very tender kiss before she pulled away. As she inclined her head away from him, she slowly opened her eyes and gazed at him through a few loose strands of hair. It was the sexiest thing Tucker had ever seen, and, even better, the eyes were full of tender affection and satisfaction. She disentangled her arms from his, and put both her palms on his chest. "Definitely, let's do this again sometime." Her words came out almost as huskily as his.

He nodded and nearly whispered, "Good night, Sergeant."

"Good night, Tucker." And just like that, she turned and walked into the night.

Not wanting to appear too anxious, Tucker opted to wait a few days, maybe a week, before contacting her again, but in the middle of this self-imposed hiatus, the job forced a meeting. Amaro and the department were being sued by the family of Yusef Barre, so, of course, IAB was involved. After a debriefing session with Chief Dodds, Sergeant Benson, Detective Amaro, Amaro's lawyer, and himself, Tucker asked Olivia to stay for a moment.

"Sergeant," he had said in his best IAB voice, "a word?"

She eyed the other men in the room, but they didn't seem to think anything of Tucker asking for a sidebar. After all, he had done it before. "Sure."

Dodds, Amaro, and the lawyer left and headed for the elevators. Tucker watched them until they were out of sight and then beamed at Benson. "I wasn't sure how long to wait to call you," he moved toward her, "and I wanted to call you the next day."

"I think the rule is twenty-four hours?" She was teasing, smiling, and apparently enjoying having the upper hand, "so you're three days late."

He nodded, eyes downcast, now regretting not texting her that very night and every night since. "Well, allow me to make up for it," he took another step closer to her. To an outsider, they were still far enough apart to appear as though they were in the middle of an extremely intense conversation. "How about tonight?"

"Tonight isn't good. Lucy, my sitter, has a night class on Wednesdays."

"I could bring dinner to you." He immediately regretted the suggestion. _What are you doing_? Inviting yourself into her _home_?

But she agreed, and a few hours later he was drinking wine and eating Chinese food in her apartment. She didn't even request that he come after Noah was in bed. Nope, he, Olivia, and Noah ate dinner as if they were a little family, and Tucker couldn't have been more pleased at how Olivia seemed so at ease having him, a stranger, there in the presence of her son. Noah, hesitant at first, eventually warmed up to him, and just as Tucker was debating whether or not to move to the floor and play with him, Olivia announced it was bed time.

Tucker anticipated the bed time process to last a while, so he began cleaning the kitchen while Olivia and Noah disappeared into her son's bedroom; however, his date reappeared within minutes. The water was running into the sink as Tucker rinsed dishes, so he didn't hear her sneak behind him. When she touched his lower back, he jumped a little.

She giggled, "You bring dinner and clean up, too? Wow." It was the same "wow" she'd used at the bar when he told her he felt sorry for Amaro—playful, almost sarcastic, and so sexy. Her brown eyes glistened and danced and, again, he wanted to divest himself of all filters and good judgement, toss her on the sofa, and make love to her.

"Well," he turned to face her, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding one of her kitchen towels, "the whole 'bringing dinner part' makes clean-up a lot easier." He kissed her on the mouth quickly, nonchalantly, as if they'd kissed thousands of times before. "He goes to bed that easily all the time?" His arms were still around her.

"Usually. He was extra tired tonight. He went to day care today and he never naps long there." She reached behind her back, took the towel, and tossed it on the counter. Then, she wrapped her arms around his neck and went for another kiss.

This time, it was not the semi-chaste, tentative, closed-mouth kiss they'd shared outside of the bar. This was for _real_. Tucker, used to being in charge in all aspects of his life, relished that she was taking control. After all, they were on _her_ turf. She stroked the back of his head as they got started, slowly at first, feeling one another out, but then syncing quickly and easily into an aggressive make-out session, pausing only to move from the kitchen to the sofa. Tucker reclined against the plush cushions, and Olivia straddled him.

"Olivia," he half-sighed, feeling himself grow hard against her. "Olivia, are you sure about this?"

She remained on top of him but sat back. She looked concerned. "Yes. Aren't you?"

Of course he was sure. He knew exactly what he wanted, and it wasn't a one-night stand. "Yes, but, I don't want this to be it for us."

She leaned in again, "It won't be."

"I've." Kiss. "Been thinking." Kiss. "About you." Kiss. "Since the bar." Kiss. "Nonstop."

"Me too." Kiss. "So what's wrong?" Kiss.

Indecision nearly crippled him. He sensed Benson failed to realize how serious he was about their relationship even though it was brand new, but he was unsure if that mattered at the moment. He was overcome with sexual arousal, and Benson, who didn't wait for an answer to her last question, had begun unbuttoning his shirt as she peppered his neck with kisses. At some point she jettisoned her cardigan, and Tucker slid his hands under her tank top, hoping his hands was not too rough against the smoothness of her skin. He let himself succumb to lust and concentrated only on Benson. He committed himself to the lovemaking, suddenly eager and excited to see her without clothes and to show off his own skills.

He thought about her only in superlatives. He had never had better sex. He had never been with a more beautiful, more holistically attractive woman. He would do anything for her. As the sun rose and cast a dim light across their bodies as they lay together among her sheets, blankets, and pillows, he decided he never wanted to leave her side.

But he was sure she wouldn't want him here when Noah awoke. Not wanting to sneak out, he nuzzled her bare shoulder, trying to wake her up.

"Mmmmmmph." She moaned, reached up for his head, and gently ran her fingers through his short-cropped hair.

"I should go," he whispered.

Tucker sat up. Olivia propped herself up against her pillows and traced Tucker's spine with her index finger. Tucker wondered what was going through her mind—if she was feeling weird about spending the night with him in a room next to her toddler, if she was happy, if she would be open to doing this again. He began to pull on his clothes.

"Tucker," she purred, "I had a great time."

He zipped and buttoned his pants, leaned down, and kissed her. Olivia playfully tickled his naked torso. "I did too," he replied. He wanted to suggest they blow off work. He could make breakfast, then the three of them could go to the park, then Noah would need a nap, and then Tucker could have more of Benson.

"Talk to you later?" She sounded hopeful.

"Absolutely." One more kiss. "Bye."

"Bye."

That day Tucker floated on air. He coasted through the day, most of which he spent daydreaming about Olivia and their night together. No longer caring about coming on too strong, sent her texts at lunch, in the middle of the afternoon, and in the evening. She sent texts back, but she was busy and a late call forced her to decline Tucker's dinner offer. It was nearly two a.m. before she sent him the final text of the day.

 _Just got home. Exhausted but got the collar. Miss you._

Miss you? Those two words sent a welcome flutter throughout Ed Tucker's body.

He sent a message back. _Miss you, too. Get some sleep. Let me know if you need anything._ And he meant _anything_.

Yet today he was flummoxed by punctuation. Complicating matters was that it had been over a week since they'd seen one another. After the night at her house, they had lunch one day and drinks another, but neither date ended like the night he brought Chinese food to Benson's apartment. Their texts, phone calls, and conversations were warm and tender, but Tucker still had a horrible feeling he could be losing her. Something just wasn't right.

As for the response to the news she'd filed for the exam, he decided to go short and sweet. _Great!_

 _Dinner tonight?_

Maybe everything was all right after all? At any rate, Tucker was prepared to lay it on the line tonight. He would tell her exactly how he felt even if he wasn't confident she would reciprocate. Tucker, even the pragmatist, needed to know his place in the life of Olivia Benson.


	2. Chapter 2

This story takes place within the plot of _Surrendering Noah,_ and is a continuation of _Taking Risks._ The narration is still from Tucker's perspective.

Two.

Olivia accepted Tucker's assessment of the Amaro situation, but she did not hide her disappointment well. Tucker admired her loyalty to her squad, particularly the loose cannon Amaro, but he certainly did not want to mislead her into thinking a promotion was a possibility for him. At the same time, he was glad he wasn't the one who would have to break the news to the aspiring sergeant; he did not envy Benson and the awkward and uncomfortable conversation she and Amaro would have to have very soon. Tucker hoped she would turn to him for empathy.

"So, what made you choose this place?" This was Tucker's first time at this restaurant and it was definitely classier than the eating and drinking establishments he frequented.

Olivia ran her hands over the marble bar. Some of the dejection had faded from her eyes. "I don't know. I thought maybe you'd like a steak. They have a great filet here. And," she took a sip of her wine, "their wine selection is fabulous."

Ed sensed she wanted to tell him something, but for some reason she held back. The news about Amaro could not have been _that much_ of a shock to her, and once Amaro dealt with his own disappointment and viewed One PP's reasoning with a level head, he would hopefully, at least, understand. The guy had made some serious mistakes. Hell, he was lucky to still have his badge. The more Tucker thought about it, he became more and more irritated with Amaro. How could the guy _expect_ a promotion with the thick series of misdeeds in his jacket?

Enough of this tiptoeing around the awkwardness. "Olivia, what's the matter?" He reached for her hand, subtly, under the bar, and rubbed the top of her palm with his thumb. "Tell me," he implored, his gravelly voice probably sounding to her more threatening than pleading.

She turned toward him, elbow on the bar, and ran her fingers through her brunette locks. "I'm concerned about how this whole thing with Johnny D and Noah affects us," her voice was shaky and almost a whisper. Ed leaned in closer and did not let go of her hand. "I don't know what is happening here with us Tucker, but I don't want a scenario to come up where you're accused of giving me a pass because we're seeing each other. That could get ugly. It could be another tool Johnny D uses to demand visitation with Noah. It could cost you your job."

On the bright side, Olivia's multifaceted worries included both him and Noah. Then again, perhaps this was a preface to a break-up? Were they even far enough into this thing to break up?

Tucker responded with a mixture of IAB pragmatism and boyfriend panache, "Olivia, my job is secure, and this thing with Johnny D isn't going to become an IAB investigation because the ME will confirm exactly what you said. And I hate to beat a dead horse, but why did Warner even tell you in the first place? Was that ethically required? It makes me sick to think she did that unnecessarily."

"I don't know, but it's beside the point."

Tucker continued, "And there is no problem with us having a personal relationship as long as we keep it professional when it needs to be professional. By the book. Like always. And," he trailed off thinking he had gone too far. He was going to point out that if there was an IAB investigation of SVU, he would simply dispatch another officer to handle it, but perhaps that was more explanation than was needed at the moment.

Olivia didn't let him off the hook. "And what?"

"And I can't predict the future, but whatever happens, good or bad, I'll be there for you as a friend, or…whatever." Her hand, still in his, shook slightly and tears welled in her eyes. "Come here," he pulled her toward him with one arm in a sideways embrace. Her head rested just below his chin, and he kissed the top of her head, smelling her shampoo, something floral yet not too feminine. Elegantly strong, just like her.

"Ok," she dabbed her eyes with a napkin and composed herself.

"Ok?"

"I just need this trial to be over. I need to never see Johnny D again. I need to know that Noah won't ever have to see him. I need to know I didn't screw up by being honest."

Tucker wanted to tell her everything would be ok, but he couldn't since he wasn't sure everything _would_ be ok. There was a very real possibility Johnny D could request and be granted visits with Noah. He understood why Olivia chose to name Noah's father, but, if subterfuge were ever justified, this would be a prime example. "Listen," he said softly, "what is done is done. Let's just get through this trial, and when Johnny D is convicted, you may have to get Langan to advocate on behalf of Noah about visitation since he's technically still in the foster system."

"Another hurdle."

"Just one more. Or maybe not." Olivia finally drank some of her wine. Tucker's was nearly gone. "Do you want to go home? We could get dinner to go?"

"No," she took another, longer, drink. "Let's change the subject. Like you said, there is nothing that can be done now; everything has to play out. I made a decision and now I have to live with it," she had been speaking into her glass, but now she looked up adoringly at Tucker, "and you've been so supportive. Thank you."

Tucker motioned for the bartender to bring two more drinks. "You're welcome."

They ordered dinner, steak for him, shrimp scampi for her, and then decided to walk the ten blocks to Tucker's apartment rather than go uptown to Olivia's place. Tonight Lucy planned to stay longer than usual since Olivia had dinner plans, and it wasn't that late anyway. The sun was just beginning to set as they left the restaurant, and a cool spring breeze blew against them as they walked west from midtown to Hell's Kitchen where Tucker lived.

Situated in the West Forties, Tucker's third-floor walk-up had been his residence since his divorce fifteen years ago. It was nothing fancy but the development of the west side High Line trail and parks significantly increased the one-bedroom's value, and he'd recently renovated the kitchen and bathroom. Tucker gifted himself the renovations as a reward for being so frugal while his two daughters were in college. The younger of the two, Sarah, graduated from Cornell last December and was now interning for an accounting firm in Philadelphia. His older daughter, Brooke, taught second grade in the Bronx. Olivia examined framed photographs of the girls in various stages of their lives while Tucker poured two glasses of brandy which he thought would pair well with the caramel cake they took to go.

"Here you go," Tucker held two snifters in one hand and the cake box in the other.

Olivia took the two snifters and followed Tucker to the sofa. "Your daughters are beautiful."

"Thanks," he held up his glass, "Cheers."

"Cheers."

"I don't get to see them very often; they're so busy now. Even Brooke, she's just up there in the Bronx. I may see her once every couple of months."

"Once they get settled in their careers that could change."

"I hope so." Tucker sank back into the sofa's brown leather cushions, put his feet on the coffee table, and motioned for Olivia to come closer. She reclined against him and Tucker draped an arm protectively across her torso. He surveyed his living room, hoping there was nothing terribly out of place or dirty or incriminating. He kept a neat house, it helped that he wasn't home much, and he prided himself on his decorating which, according to Brooke, was "minimalist mid-century modern with Dad flair." The only piece that didn't quite fit was the brown leather sofa which Tucker refused to part with (inspiring the "Dad flair"). Other than the couch, the rest of his furniture was simple, he stuck to browns and blues, and his walls were all painted Decorator's White. He preferred framed historic maps and vintage photographs to painted artwork, and he owned one plant, a Boston fern, which he had been assured would never die. Overall, Tucker was proud of his setup and elated to have Benson there, even if it wasn't for the entire night.

"Do you want cake?" He asked, hoping she would say no. Her body resting against his felt so right he wished they could stay there forever. _Superlatives again_. Clichéd and cheesy ones at that. What _was_ it with this woman?

"No. I think…," she sat up, facing him, "I think I want something else for dessert." She kissed him, and they both tasted like brandy—warm, spicy, intoxicating. "Or," she kissed him again, " _someone_."

Tucker adored how passionately she approached sex especially when just two hours earlier at the restaurant she had been so vulnerable and on the verge of a breakdown. Now, in the secure confines of his apartment, her confidence reappeared. Already, she knew exactly where he liked to be kissed, touched, and she had somehow figured out that slightly nibbling his earlobe drove him absolutely crazy. She was skilled at bringing him to the point of arousal at which he absolutely had to take over and assume control of the lovemaking so it would last longer than a few minutes, and she willingly submitted to him, this time, allowing him to affectionately jostle her into the bedroom where he slowly undressed her.

"Olivia…," suddenly, Tucker, who also did not lack for confidence, was completely speechless. He grew dizzy with desire. The feeling was familiar but it had lain dormant for some time, but now it raged through his body. He gently placed her on his bed, the bed he'd kept impeccably laundered anticipating this very moment, and kneeled before her, examining every curve, every crevice, running his hand slowly from her head to her toes. He wanted to gush that he loved her, that he had loved her for some time, that he was sorry for everything painful he'd put her through, that, sometimes, his cruelty and vindictiveness were facades for his jealousy, and he would spend the rest of his life trying to make up for all the times he had been vicious or unkind. But she was growing impatient and was pawing at his clothing, nearly tearing his polo at the neck as she yanked it from his body (not that he cared). He let himself fall on top of her, not quite ready yet, still enjoying staring into her eyes, still wanting to say something, anything, that could adequately spell out for her how thrilled he was to be here, with her, sharing this amorous moment. "You are gorgeous, Olivia." The last part of her name was slightly muffled because she pulled him to her and kissed him, almost violently probing his mouth with her tongue, groping for his buttocks, silently pleading for him to be inside her.

Sweat glistened on both their bodies. Tucker could wait no longer.

"Tucker." She gasped. "Do. Not. Stop."

Consent given, he continued, gaining even more confidence as he saw her face contort with pleasure. She screamed and arched her back, kept repeating his name, gasping and panting, running her nails all over his back, and then his biceps, and then his back again. It was rougher this time, but somehow even better. _How could it possibly be better?_ Tucker sensed she was close, and so was he. _How were they so in sync already?_

Afterwards, he collapsed next to her on his belly, one leg intertwined with hers, his right hand cupping her right breast, his head curled between the left and her chin. He listened to her heartbeat and her breathing return to normal and moaned softly as she stroked his hair.

"Tucker," she said, her voice raspy, "don't take this the wrong way, but I am pleasantly surprised by you."

"I _knew_ you'd be good, Benson."

"So you've thought about this before?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"A long time."

"How _long?_ "

"Since I found out you moved in with Cassidy." Tucker wasn't sure if bringing up an old lover was a good move, but it was the truth.

"Why then?"

"I don't know."

"Like, during the undercover OP at the one-two?"

Uh-oh. This was not good. It had the potential to ruin the entire evening and ensure there would be no more evenings like this one. "Yes," he said sheepishly. "Actually, just before. Remember when I asked you to walk me out?"

"Yes."

"Something happened to me there. I had never known you as someone in a relationship, and it hit me you two were together, I felt sorry that you were with Cassidy and not with me." Again, Tucker cringed at his own words and expected a flurry of invective.

Olivia surprised him. "I had my doubts about Brian the second after we moved in together. I knew deep down it was doomed to fail. I did try. I had hopes."

"I was jealous," Tucker admitted, "but that's not why I did what I did."

"I know," she kissed the top of his head, "I know. I don't agree with it, but I understand."

"Would you have done the same thing?"

"No."

"Because it was Cassidy?"

"No, because it risked an officer's life. You took advantage of him."

"Another investigative method would've taken longer, more women raped, more…"

"Tucker, we could debate this all night, but I don't want to."

"Me neither. I don't want to talk about it again. I'm not proud of it." Actually, Tucker was a little proud, after all, the sting worked and at least a dozen dirty cops were brought up on charges ranging from misconduct to aggravated assault, but he and Benson were never going to see eye to eye on this one. Better to let it go.

Olivia gently pushed him aside and got out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"Cake," she said brightly, "and brandy." He loved how she stayed undressed for the trip to the living room. She returned with the two glasses, the box, and a fork. They finished the cake in bed, alternately giving one another bites, and even got in a second round of sex before Olivia had to head home.

Later that night, alone, save for the rest of the brandy, Tucker assessed the relationship. He still had not managed to be completely honest with her about his vision for their collective future though he had come close. Still, at least he knew he had more time. Olivia was not on the verge of pushing him out of her life; instead, she was in the unenviable position of trying to weave her life into his without collateral damage. He only wished she would come to the realization that she didn't have to piece everything together on her own.

Tucker picked up his phone. _Come back anytime. Miss you already._

Her response was quick although slightly aloof. _Sooner rather than later? Night. Miss you too. -O_


	3. Chapter 3

Set after _Transgender Bridge._

 **Three.**

"Olivia, it's been a while."

"It has been an insane spring."

"Yes," Dr. Lindstrom drawled softly, "Congratulations. How are you feeling now that the adoption is final?"

Olivia closed her eyes. "I feel…relief like I've never felt before."

"I'm sure. It must be liberating. To have this assurance. This finality."

"You have no idea."

"And how is Noah?"

"He's good," she reported breezily, "he's growing fast, active, talking more and more. Before you know it, I'll be sending him to kindergarten."

"Ah, yes," he replied knowingly, "the bugaboo common to all parents. They grow up too quickly."

"They do. Every stage, every step, it's all exciting and terrifying at the same time."

"What parts are terrifying?"

Olivia cringed. Perhaps she had used the wrong word; she always had to be careful with her verbiage around Lindstrom. He was good at teasing out suppressed emotions from a single word or phrase. "Like you said, the growing up. The independence. The first day I dropped him off at day care, he cried. Now, he rushes to play."

"That could not be more normal. He's well-adjusted."

"I'll be a wreck on his first day of school."

"Most parents are, but, you know, Olivia, you have to live in the present."

"Of course." _You brought it up_ , she thought to herself. Time to redirect the conversation somehow; many of her lower-intensity sessions with Lindstrom resembled a verbal tug-of-war rather than psychotherapy.

"And the recent cases are resolved."

"Yes, but not without serious, long-term damage."

"Sometimes justice just cannot be done."

Olivia sighed, "This case with the kids. Kids just being kids, really, kids are mean, they bully others, it doesn't usually end up like this, with two families devastated."

"I share your disappointment with the judgement and the sentence, Olivia. We can only hope that, somehow, this doesn't _completely_ ruin lives."

"Darius will be a young man with an ugly criminal record when he's released."

"And with the proper help and focus, he can rise above it. Move on."

"I hope so. Until then…his poor mother and sister. They need help, too," Olivia trailed off.

"They will get it, one way or another." Dr. Lindstrom shifted in his chair, "Olivia, the last time we talked you told me there was someone in your life, someone surprising?"

She couldn't help but smile at the thought of Tucker. When he wasn't dropping by the precinct on little pretexts, he was offering to buy drinks, coffee, lunches, dinners…but since the night at his house, which was amazing, for some reason, she declined every invitation. The excuses varied, but between spending one-on-one time with Noah, the Yates Case, and the Avery Parker/Darius McCrea case there was not much time for a social life. At the end of the day, she preferred to crash on the couch with a glass of wine after Noah was in bed. More than once she thought about calling Tucker, inviting him over, but what was the point? She was a little too old for college-style booty calls.

"He is surprising," Olivia was careful not to sound too happy, "but I haven't seen much of him lately. I just don't have time."

"Why not?"

"I'm a mom and a police officer. There isn't a lot of room for anything else."

"Aren't there other working moms who have relationships?"

"Of course," she rolled her eyes, exasperated, "but how many have jobs that involve unearthing dead bodies and chasing serial rapists?"

"Olivia, you have given so much of your energy and time to caring for others in your career and in your life. Why is it so hard to let someone care for you?"

"It's not that simple," she replied, deflecting the uncomfortable question. "We…we work together. We have worked in the same circles for a long time. We _never_ got along...until a few months ago."

"So, something changed," Lindstrom coaxed, "what changed, Olivia?"

Realizing Tucker Talk was somehow soothing, Olivia let down her guard. "He was one of the most frustrating, anger-inducing people I've ever _known_. There were times I actually wished for very bad things to happen to him. I honestly would not have cared if he lived or died."

"And now you have feelings for him?"

"I do." _That felt better. Just admit it._ "In the past year or so, he's been different. He became more reasonable with me and my squad. Almost nice…and kind. All of a sudden this awful person had a heart."

"People change, Olivia."

She smirked, "If you knew him, really knew him, and knew our history, you would be just as shocked as I am."

"Are you worried his change is some sort of ruse?"

"No, I am certainly not worried about _that_." The idea had crossed her mind after she and Tucker shared the kiss outside the bar, but she no longer entertained the idea. If he was trying to uncover corruption within SVU, his sting operation was, at best, poorly conducted. "What does it say, though, about _me,_ my judgment, to have read him so _wrong_ all these years?"

"Olivia, you just told me _he_ was the one who changed. How could this possibly be an indication of something wrong with you? People really do change. Do you know why he changed so much? Have you talked about it?"

"No. We mostly talk about work."

"Just work?"

"We actually haven't been out socially in a few weeks. I've been too busy."

"Do you trust him?"

"Yes. Absolutely. I hated him, but I never doubted his integrity."

"Then why keep him away? Why refuse him a place in your life?"

The questions stumped Olivia. _Why keep this man who you have amazing sex with out of your life? What place, exactly, would he occupy?_ She shrugged and sat on the sofa, defeated. Lindstrom won. "I have no idea. I don't know what this is. We've been…together…and it was great. He is persistent. He wants to see me. I keep declining. It's probably just a matter of time before he gives up, but then we still have to work together."

"Is the working together the part that bothers you?"

"No. He's assured me it's not a problem."

"What would happen if you dove into the relationship? Said 'yes' instead of 'no'?"

"I don't know."

"You enjoy his company. He, as you said, wants your company. Why not give this surprise a try? Don't be afraid, Olivia. Don't be afraid to let someone who wants you to be happy into your life."

Letting Tucker in to her life, her _whole_ life, would require the two of them seriously reckoning with their rocky past. Olivia wondered if they'd jumped the gun by getting physical so quickly, by giving in to their physical desires without parsing their past. The brief exchange about Cassidy wasn't enough. In order to move forward with him, Olivia needed to confront the awful memories of bad-guy Tucker, her arrest, Rollins' arrest, and the multiple times he attempted to take Stabler's badge. Allowing the past to remain buried meant her deep-seated resentment also lurked below the surface and could potentially bubble up and sabotage them further down the road.

"Olivia?" Lindstrom cocked his head and furrowed his brow, "What are you thinking?"

Outside, daylight gave way to dusk and the city looked dimmed. "I love this time of day," she replied, knowing her answer would not satisfy the doctor, "so peaceful. I'm just wondering if what I'm about to do will _destroy_ the peace I've finally been able to have in my life."

Their time together had expired, and Lindstrom stood. "There are very few guarantees, Olivia."

"I know," she said softly and slung her purse over her shoulder, "I know."

"I'll see you next week?"

"Yes."

Back on the cacophonous midtown streets, Olivia pulled out her phone and dialed.

"Lucy? Hi, it's Olivia. How are things? Good? Well, listen, can you stay a little longer, maybe an hour? Something just came up, but I won't be long."

While she was in session with Dr. Lindstrom, Tucker sent yet another text.

 _A drink before you go home for the night?_

Olivia felt bad because his text had been lingering unanswered for twenty minutes. He must have been in agony. She replied.

 _The usual place? I'm on my way now._

Olivia, still wondering what in the hell she was doing, crossed the street and walked in the direction of the bar.


	4. Chapter 4

I apologize for the slow pace of the story!

Four.

The usual place was a dive, Tucker's favorite type of bar, tucked away near his apartment in Hell's Kitchen in a quickly gentrifying neighborhood. Green paneling, which bowed out in some places, lined the walls of the narrow space. Dingy sconces, two large Michelob chandeliers, neon-lit advertisements, and multiple strings of Christmas lights illuminated the area. Even though smoking inside public establishments had been banned for years, the smell of cigarettes lingered. The clientele included a string of regulars whose barstools were on permanent reserve, semi-regulars like Tucker, and a smattering of PBR-swilling hipsters, aging academics, and newbies trying to keep it real. Places like this were increasingly being forced out by higher rents and more refined tastes; Tucker, ever the realist, mourned the day, probably in the near future, when the owners would inevitably shut the doors for good.

He chose a spot at the bar so he could keep one eye on the door and the other on the baseball game. The bartender delivered a double shot of bourbon with a single ice cube, Tucker's usual. The game was close, but he had a hard time paying attention to the action; instead he gazed across the dimly lit room, impatiently awaiting Olivia's arrival and hoping, even though it would be good for business, that the after-work crowd was not too heavy. The dive's only seating were the eleven or so barstools and five two-top tables and chairs arranged along the opposite wall. If the place swelled to standing room only, Olivia would probably want to leave rather than spend their time together wedged in the back corner. If they left, he wasn't so sure she would accept an invitation to his apartment.

Outside, the wind kicked up and the warm spring day descended into a chilly evening. Olivia pulled on her rain jacket and tightened the belt and shoved her hands in the pockets before crossing Ninth Avenue in a swarm of rush hour pedestrians. Brunette wisps escaped from her elastic hair tie and blew across her face. Olivia blinked and jerked her head to keep them out of her eyes. When she entered the bar, Tucker's instantly captured her from twenty feet away. It wasn't just that their eyes met; it was Tucker seizing her with his blue-eyed gaze, captivating her, inviting, no, drawing, her to the space he's created in that semi-crowded bar, laser focused, the moment, the bar, it was all created for them.

She smiled, feeling jittery. Those eyes—once menacing and hostile now sparkled with affection and tenderness. She knew two basic Ed Tucker looks. Both were carved on the same ruddy, chiseled template, but one was intimidating and stern, the other warm and caring. It was the former he used as _IAB Ed_ , jaw clenched, cheeks slightly flared, and raw detachment in his eyes. The latter was less rigid, jaw relaxed, lips slightly pursed, and, depending on the situation, his eyes either danced with desire (as they did now as Olivia walked toward him) or expressed genuine concern.

He stood and hugged her, tightly, feeling the coolness of the evening still on her face and in her hair. "Olivia." He held her by the shoulders at arm's length. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Hi," she said brightly, briefly entertaining the idea of kissing his chiseled cheek, opting not to do it, then regretting it. _God, she had to get better at spontaneity_. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Just got here," Tucker waved the bartender over, "I haven't had one sip yet. Was waiting to toast with you."

"I'll have whatever that is," Olivia told the bartender sweetly, nodding in the direction of Tucker's drink. A second glass arrived quickly, and she held it up. "To spring?"

"To spring." He gave her a crooked smile. "Cheers." They clinked glasses and took the first sips of the strong bourbon, taking a second to absorb the initial burn. Tucker licked his lips. "Long day?"

"Not exactly. I had a late lunch then a session with the shrink." Tucker wasn't quite sure how to respond. Sensing this, Olivia continued, "I hadn't been there for a while. At least a month. It was good. I guess with everything going on, I should've been there more, not less."

"Everything ok?"

She took a deep breath. And another sip. Then another breath and a look around, as if she were worried someone was listening in on the conversation. But nobody was. There was no one within ten feet of them. "Everything _is_ ok. And I think," another sip, "I think that makes me nervous."

"That's completely understandable. After all you've been through, to have the whole thing with..." Ed caught himself before he said his name.

Olivia helped him out, "Johnny D."

"…that scumbag, to have that over and to suddenly have nothing to worry about custody-wise, well, that _is_ odd. I mean, I've never been through anything nearly as stressful, but I remember with Brooke and Sarah, when my ex-wife was using them as pawns in our divorce proceedings. When it was all over and I knew I wouldn't lose them, there was relief. But I was also on edge, waiting for the next crisis instead of appreciating what I'd just won."

Suddenly ushered in to the private backstory of Ed Tucker, Olivia was intrigued and probed for more information, "Do you feel like you lost time with them? Wasted it worrying?"

Tucker was forthcoming, "Yes. At first. I took them to Florida for Christmas. Went to Disney World, all of that. And at some point I was tired. They were old enough, twelve and fourteen, to go off on their own for a bit. They had a cell phone. So, I went and had a beer on a patio while they went on some rides. They were late getting back."

"How late?"

Tucker's fear, over a decade old, was very much alive within him. "About twenty minutes," his voice wavered a bit but quickly returned to normal, "and you know, twenty minutes, to a parent, is like twenty years. I was terrified. Finally, they showed up. They just got lost."

"They didn't use the phone?"

Tucker rolled his eyes and grimaced. "Twelve and fourteen. Said they just _forgot_ they had it. So, I completely lost it with them. I got so angry, walked them right out of the park, had them both by the by the back of the neck, thinking about how I could have lost custody, or worse, lost them. I hardly spoke to them for the rest of the trip, and I never let them out of my sight. Everything they did was with me. They hated it. I ruined the trip. They hated me for the whole week. But all I could think about was, if I screwed up, I would miss their lives."

Olivia thought about the last time she visited Tucker's apartment. "I've seen their pictures. They look happy. You must have been forgiven." She spoke softly, in the way she would speak to an aggrieved parent in one of her precinct's interview rooms.

"I was. Kids bounce back. They're resilient. They probably wouldn't even remember it now unless I really pressed them." Tucker's eyes softened even more. He thought about Brooke and Sarah, his two beautiful daughters who were now independent young women with very little time for their father. He understood; he knew their lives were busy and they were committed to forging their own paths of success, but he also hoped, and he was pretty sure they knew, that if they called right now, he would indulge any request no matter how outlandish…or expensive. "I'm lucky it worked out, and then I figured out a new way to live, being separated from them but also being there for them. I was much happier, and so were they, once I made _them_ my first priority rather than constantly prioritizing the damage control."

"Damage control," Olivia repeated, reflective. "I know that mode well."

"It's hard to work your way out of it," Tucker slid his arm around her waist and gently kissed her head, "but I'm here…if you want me to be. I can help, Olivia."

 _Those eyes again._ Tucker stared at her intently, concerned, the way he looked at her when she first informed him that Amaro's shots killed Johnny D. Had this happened yesterday, before Dr. Lindstrom implored her to allow herself to be cared for, she probably would have brushed off Tucker's kind words, ordered another drink, and changed the subject. "Tucker," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Ed."

"Ed," she resigned herself to this new reality of the _non-IAB_ Tucker, the _Tucker 2.0_ who had recently flipped her world upside down and made her question what she'd previously considered to be a reliable set of instincts.

Tucker could have sworn he saw her literally let down her guard; her emotional armor crumbled right there on the floor of the bar, and she turned to him with eyes nearly spilling over with tears. "I don't want to push you away. It's just," she wiped a rogue tear, "this, us, is insane, so unexpected, I need to process it." She waited for a response, but he offered none. "And I want to talk. Really sit down and talk."

Tucker nodded, "Ok. Anytime. Whenever you want."

"But not here."

"Name the place."

Olivia finished her drink and checked the time. "I have to get home, but, will you come by later? I'll text you after Noah's asleep?"

"I'll be waiting." Tucker nearly exploded with relief. She wanted to see him. Tonight. Talk. Talking was good. They needed to talk. He thought they'd _already_ talked after the incredible night at his apartment. He suspected parts of _this_ conversation could potentially be excruciatingly difficult, yet he pledged to not leave her apartment until he told his side, the _whole_ story. Ed Tucker knew the source of Olivia's hesitation was the past decade of IAB-SVU battles, but he also knew she was reasonable and capable of forgiveness. Nevertheless, Tucker couldn't help but feel slightly hurt, after all, they'd slept together, more than once. He didn't see their relationship as some ephemeral dalliance. Had she? He was under the impression their bad blood was relegated to the past, a time in their lives to look back on with regret and dismay, but certainly not something that should or would affect them _now_.

As he waded his way through silent confusion, Olivia leaned over and kissed him on his flushed left cheek. "I'll see you later."

Tucker ordered another drink, his last. He would leave after this one, get some dinner, and devise a strategy for walking Olivia out of her cloud of doubt, defense, and anxiety and into the protective bubble of a loving relationship, one both he and she desperately needed and deserved.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five.**

Olivia's living room window faced eastward, so Ed Tucker had a perfect view of the sun rising over New York on this Saturday morning. It was still too dark for any buildings to be well-defined, but a bluish gray canvas replaced the night's blackness.

Dawn.

The IAB Captain reclined against the arm of Lieutenant Olivia Benson's sofa, his legs stretched out over the two seat cushions. Benson was wedged between his legs, on her side, her head on his chest, asleep.

Tucker clasped his hands behind his head, debating what to do. It was just after five; Olivia had been asleep for an hour, and he hadn't slept much at all. Olivia's all-clear text did not come as quickly as Tucker had hoped it would. Duty called, and she went back to work.

"Do you need me to watch Noah?" Tucker had asked sweetly, not quite sure how flexible her childcare arrangements were and also not sure he actually wanted to watch Noah. Lately, he'd been saying a lot of things to Benson without thinking first.

"No, no," Olivia declined over the phone, "my sitter is staying. Thank you, though."

Luckily for Tucker, the case didn't keep Olivia at the precinct long. "It's a DV," she reported, again opting to call Tucker rather than text him, "the vic is in a shelter for the night. Rollins and Fin are going to button it up. I'll be home in a half hour or so." Silence. Tucker assumed their plans were postponed. He was disappointed but not surprised-a cop's life was anything but predictable. But Olivia continued, "So, I'll see you soon?"

After that, Tucker happily swapped his sweats for jeans and a sweatshirt and headed for Benson's place. He brought a bottle of Cabernet from his wine rack and debated whether or not to bring food before deciding against it. They could just order in if Benson was hungry.

Tucker contentedly gazed down at Benson, and then directed his attention to Noah, also fast asleep, visible on the baby monitor; he felt in control, powerful, needed and trusted. Conversely, as he walked the ten blocks to Benson's apartment a few hours ago, he had been more nervous than ever. Olivia requesting to see him after a case meant one of two things, _bad serious_ or _good serious_ , and he was not optimistic.

But he had been wrong.

Olivia left the door unlocked for him, and Tucker entered the apartment unannounced and met by no one.

"Hello?"

No answer.

"Olivia?"

Still no answer. He closed and locked the door, shoes still on, right hand gripping his Glock, suddenly thinking that he'd walked into some sort of trap.

But then Olivia appeared, unharmed, hair damp, clad in a Yankees t-shirt and navy NYPD sweatpants.

"Hey," she greeted him softly, "thanks for coming over so late," she noticed the wine, "thanks for bringing drinks." She looked at him awkwardly, "sit down, are you ok?"

"Yes," he said slowly, placing the bottle on the coffee table and taking a seat on the couch, "are you?"

Olivia grabbed two wine glasses and took a spot on the opposite end of the sofa. "Yes." She reached for the bottle, "I am very much ok."

"I didn't think you would want to have me over this late," Tucker admitted, trying to sound a tiny bit grateful.

She shrugged, "I'm going to be up anyway," she uttered flippantly, "and we need to talk." She stared at him. "It can't wait." Olivia deftly uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses. "Tucker," she started.

"Ed," he insisted…again.

"Ed," she began again. This was all so weird. Olivia felt as if she were having this conversation outside of herself; it was like she could hear her words replayed back to her seconds after they were spoken. She closed her eyes. Hard. Trying to focus.

"Olivia, maybe this can wait for another time?" Tucker had no idea what the night's case was about other than it was some type of domestic violence situation, but he didn't want it having anything to do with Benson's issues (or non-issues) with him.

"No." She was resolute. "Let me get this out." She breathed deeply, sorting it all out internally. She had been practicing the conversation in her head, tonight's job helped her ignore it for a while, but the case wasn't _that_ serious. Rollins and Fin didn't really need her, but Benson lingered behind her desk for an hour before she contacted Tucker. She wanted to call Lindstrom, berate him, chastise him, because she was perfectly fine just seeing Tucker casually, sex occasionally, after all, what would IAB Tucker want with Olivia and a two-year-old? But then again, she wasn't fine with that. She had to investigate, interrogate, and determine _what on Earth was going on._

"Tucker…Ed… I'm struggling here, because I can't seem to reconcile the past fifteen years with what has happened recently."

Tucker stared at her blankly

Olivia continued, "You. You were a thorn in our side. A bane in our existence in the 1-6. We _hated_ you, dreaded your presence. You tried to take Stabler's badge, my badge, Rollins' badge," Olivia shook her head looking at the floor, "You _arrested_ me. I just don't understand."

Tucker chewed on the inside of his mouth and he went into cop mode, he couldn't help it. "Olivia," he argued softly, "Seriously, name one of those cases where you wouldn't have done exactly what I did."

"I would not have taken Rollins' sister's word over hers," Olivia said edgily.

Tucker felt blood rush to his face, but he remained calm, "Of course not. But the point of IAB is for someone not closely associated with an accused officer to judge the situation. And Rollins looked guilty. She had a lot working against her. A lot of things went absolutely right for, uh, I forgot her name. Her sister manipulated all of us."

"Even you."

"Even me."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping the wine and contemplating where to take the conversation from here.

"Olivia," his voice was nearly a whisper, "Are we going to rehash every time I investigated you or one of your squad?"

"That's probably not the best idea."

"Can I tell you one thing, though?"

"Yes, but then I have a question."

Tucker took another sip. "I felt sick when I arrested you. Almost physically ill. Because, I…I usually am very good at reading people. I always thought Stabler was the loose cannon, never you. And then…"

"Of all the times you arrested or almost arrested one of us, Ed, that one is actually the time I understand the _most_." Olivia rolled her eyes and managed a tiny, incredulous, smile, "I mean, fabricated _DNA_? Who knew?"

"I thought maybe you had a, uh, some sort of flashback. And also that Stabler was covering for you."

"He wouldn't have done that."

Tucker looked at her skeptically.

"No," Olivia said.

"No what?"

"No, we never slept together. Not even close. Ever."

"I wasn't going there."

"But you were wondering."

"Maybe."

"Do you feel better knowing nothing ever happened between us?"

"I think I would've felt better knowing that ten years ago."

Olivia broke into a smug grin. "Ten years?"

"Olivia, I've _always_ thought you were beautiful," Tucker explained, his gentler voice returning, "but I never thought anything like this would happen. I didn't think we could be on the same side. It was that awful reality, that there was zero possibility and all of these other men in your life had a chance, well, that bothered me."

Olivia shook her head in disbelief, "So you took it out on my partner? My squad?"

"Come on," Tucker pleaded with her, "give me _some_ credit, I didn't make up reasons to investigate."

"You just never gave any of us the benefit of the doubt?"

"I guess not."

"Until Brian and I broke up?"

"I don't think it was that even though I didn't like that you were with him. You being Sergeant and taking over, I realized you were someone to be trusted. That you were loyal, to the job and to people who deserved your loyalty," Tucker was struggling to make his point, "And I got tired of being your enemy. I wanted, _want_ , to deserve your loyalty."

Olivia reached out for his hand and held his fingers tightly while running her thumb over his knuckles. Her hands were so soft; his so rough and calloused. He felt bad about that. She furrowed her brow, "It must be awful sometimes, your job."

" _Our_ jobs are ugly sometimes."

"At least some of my cases end well," Olivia pointed out, "do any of yours?"

"Not many." Until fairly recently, Ed Tucker enjoyed being the man everyone feared. He loved the nervous, curious stares directed at him when he walked into a precinct. Interrogating rogue cops thrilled him, it sustained him, and it occupied a place in his life left vacant by his fractured family. There were nights he stayed so late poring over officers' jackets or listening to wiretaps or reviewing departmental complaints that he simply slept in his office. But that lifestyle quickly became exhausting and depressing. He dated a few different women, but nothing lasted and he felt awkward anyway. Working out and true crime books diverted his attention during his down time, but he tried very hard to _not_ have any down time. Instead, he worked his way up through the ranks, logged collar after collar, put away some dirty cops, and falsely accused others, including, of course, Olivia Benson.

Captain Ed Tucker still got a little rush of adrenaline knowing he was someone others dreaded to see, he had to admit that, but the thrill of the hunt no longer satisfied him like it used to. He believed in IAB's role and in upholding the integrity of the NYPD, but the centrality of his career in relation to the rest of his life now was more a cause for concern rather than a point of pride.

Olivia listened intently as Ed told her all of this. She scooted closer to him and leaned in on her elbows, extremely interested in hearing his deepest, most existential thoughts about his role at IAB and in life in general. Hearing him speak in this way delighted her; he was vulnerable, showing weakness and self-doubt. Intentionally or not, Tucker was making Olivia fall in love with him right there on her sofa in the wee hours of the morning.

"I'm going to be totally honest Olivia," Tucker swallowed hard. He was uncomfortable revealing this side of himself even to Benson whose affection he wanted most in the world right now. But Olivia deserved it; she needed to see him like this, to know he was capable of being more than just hard-ass IAB Captain Ed Tucker. "I think about you all the time. I'm drawn to you, all of you, in my mind there is no more perfect person than you."

Tears welled in Olivia's eyes. Her body trembled and her lower lip quivered.

Tucker continued, "I truly am sorry. But not for doing my job. I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize we were better as allies than enemies."

"You don't have to apologize," her voice wavered slightly. "How did I miss this? Us? How could I not have realized… _this_ …until _now_?

Ed held her hands, "Olivia," he released one hand to wipe a single tear that had escaped, "Liv."

At the sound of her nickname, _Ed Tucker_ calling her by her nickname, Olivia gave in to the reality that they'd crossed the Rubicon. In the course of almost a year, after several drinks, kisses, and sex, Tucker, _Ed_ , finally went for it, he went out on the semantic limb and used "Liv."

Brave man.

"Liv," he repeated, liking the sound of it coming from his mouth, "You didn't miss anything. Remember when we first had drinks?" She nodded. "Well, that was the first time I took a stab at socializing with you. I didn't exactly open myself up before that."

"That night," Olivia recalled with a grin, "I was so surprised. I couldn't believe it, well, I think I said 'yes' to the drink out of shock that you even asked, then…"

Ed smiled back at her, "and it ended pretty well I think."

Olivia thought about that first kiss and about how nervous she was, knowing a monumental shift in their relationship was occurring right there on West 45th Street. "It did," she replied.

"And then, when you let me come over and bring dinner, meet Noah, sleep with you, I thought, hey, something really good is happening here, we're going somewhere. But I feel like you retracted, well, after the night at my place."

"I did," she admitted ruefully, "and I shouldn't have. I got scared, and I thought we were, just, hooking up," she rolled her eyes, "for lack of a better phrase. I didn't think it was possible, you and me. It almost didn't seem real. Even right now, I feel like I'm looking in on myself from a distance, wondering what's going on."

"It is possible. And it is real."

"What about-."

He interrupted, "Let's worry about work when we have to. And when we have to, it's inevitable, we'll be honest. Talk. Agree to separate work as much as possible from," he leaned over, grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her hard, "this."

"That won't be as easy as it sounds."

He kissed her again, coaxing her into believing him, "We'll do it."

Benson had no more ammunition to ward off Tucker, not that she wanted any. "Ok," she relented but not sounding entirely convinced.

Tucker used a knuckle to gently raise her chin so her eyes were even with his. "I love you."

There. He said it. There was no doubt in Tucker's mind. He loved Olivia Benson. It was a love that had been simmering for a while now, and he didn't care whether or not she said it back right then. In time, she would. Eventually, she would say it _and_ feel it.

She opened her mouth and started to say something, but he placed an index finger over her lips, "No," he commanded gently, "it's ok. Wait until you're ready." He pulled her toward him and they kissed, slowly, tenderly, passionately, and it lasted a long time.

At some point, they stopped and just lay there, wrapped up with one another, content, and finally on the same page. Tucker was so thrilled he could not sleep. Instead, he sipped wine, refilling the glass twice, and stared into the night knowing when he walked out of the building it would be with a new purpose and a clear head.

The day gradually shrugged off the night, and the sun sent slivers of light into the living room, casting its brightness over the nearly empty wine bottle, two Cabernet-streaked glasses, his holstered Glock, his wallet and keys, and the baby monitor projecting a grainy picture of a sleeping Noah.

Olivia stirred, blinked, and raised her head so her chin rested in the indentation along Ed's breastbone. She looked and felt at peace. "Hi," she greeted him in a sleepy, raspy voice.

"Hi."

"Did you sleep?"

"A little, but mostly I just watched you."

"How long was I out?" Olivia untangled her legs from his and sat up.

"A couple hours."

"That's all?" She readjusted her ponytail and stretched, "It feels like more. I feel so…good." She bit her lip, "maybe we'll have to do this more often."

"Definitely," Ed agreed, "but first, I want the three of us to go get breakfast."

"Good idea."

"I'm going to run home and change clothes."

"Ok. By the time you get back, Noah will be up," she glanced at the monitor, "it looks like he's waking up now." Olivia scooped the wine bottle and glasses from the coffee table and took them to the kitchen.

Ed gathered his wallet and keys and attached the holstered Glock to his belt. "I'll," he jumped a bit. Olivia wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.

"You didn't let me finish something I started to say last night."

"Yeah? What's that?" He asked, feeling a bit cocky.

"I love you, too."

Tucker hugged her tightly. The embrace closed the deal, finalized the pact, and confirmed this new alliance; from here they would move forward. From now on, they were _they,_ Ed and Olivia, _together_ ; this day marked the beginning of new traditions and a new definition of normalcy.

Tucker left the building and walked downtown feeling confident, masculine, and important. Busting dirty cops was one thing. Becoming part of Olivia Benson's life? Well, none of his career highlights came close to matching the incredible triumph and satisfaction that came from loving and being loved by Olivia Benson.

 **The End. That was fun. Now, on to #Manhattan Transfer. Any ideas for another story? Review or tweet fid2916.**


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